


heart eater/fucking young

by ggemini



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22172308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ggemini/pseuds/ggemini
Summary: what donghyuck looks for in a man (!) is height and a car. johnny’s got height but no car. taeil’s got a car but no height. so donghyuck figures, he can totally have both.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Moon Taeil, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Moon Taeil/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Moon Taeil/Suh Youngho | Johnny/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan
Comments: 64
Kudos: 309





	heart eater/fucking young

**Author's Note:**

> swearing, mentions of BONING, crazy stuff

johnny remembers: the mattress dips under donghyuck's knee and his words fall on johnny's cheek so softly it's easy to turn a blind eye - hyung, hyung, wanna know what my ideal type is? of course you do, it's a tall guy who owns a car. preferably mercedes but i'll settle for bmw.

johnny tucks a strand of hair behind donghyuck's ear. "i don't have a car though," he laughs.

donghyuck plops down on johnny's hips, leans down to nuzzle against his temple. quietly, he offers, "there's a bus stop right in front of your building?" and johnny takes it.

johnny remembers this as he trips over a box in front of the neighbouring flat’s open door because he was looking over the railing, at bus number two hundred sixty-two leaving the stop. his knees knock into the cold concrete of the landing and the new neighbour runs out. it’s mid june, taeil’s got a worn piece of string tied around his ankle.

“are you alright?” taeil asks, flat but not rude. he helps johnny up and his palms are split by pink lines from the boxes’ handles.

“yeah,” johnny says, pasting on a smile. his knees hurt like hell but it doesn’t seem like the worst thing right now. he can almost feel donghyuck’s hand holding on to his jeans’ belt loop, thumb rubbing at his hip. hyung, can i be your baby forever? “i’m fine.”

taeil extends a polite apology, then turns on his heel and trudges into his flat. when johnny doesn’t follow, he pokes his head back out and states, “i probably have an ice pack in the freezer.”

johnny feels like a giant in the short hall, even if the blueprint’s identical to his flat’s. among the cardboard boxes, the fridge is the only thing taeil’s unpacked and installed. he wrestles the freezer compartment open.

johnny sits on the floor with his legs crossed, switching the ice pack from one knee to the other every few minutes. it's going to bruise pretty badly, good thing he doesn't kneel much anymore. (breaths gush out through donghyuck’s nose. it’s a hard sound, he smells like soap and new underwear.)

taeil explains he works in a driving school but doesn't seem to find it necessary to elaborate. he stares at johnny's knees, at the electric blue of the ice pack. it’s the time of the day when you haven’t realised you should put the lights on yet.

“what age are you?” taeil finally asks. it takes him three minutes to think of the simple question. johnny feels bad for letting him shoulder the whole conversation on his own, he seems like he doesn’t let go of his words easy. johnny’s just too out of it to say much.

“twenty-five,” johnny replies.

it’s unexpected but taeil lets a laugh slip, like he didn’t mean to. he turns his head towards the window and says, calm again, “thank god, you won’t be growing any taller.” he scratches at a mosquito bite on his thigh.

“and you?” johnny asks.

“twenty-six,” taeil says. his hair looks freshly cut.

johnny thinks twenty-six’s good. definitely better than barely twenty. “do you need help with the boxes? i can help you carry them up.”

taeil tries to refuse but that’s just courtesy. johnny follows him to his car and helps him carry the few boxes that are left. they’re heavy, sweat starts pooling at the small of johnny’s back and spilling over. 

johnny peeks around the boxes in his arms, at the single flash of light from the hyundai surging for the nape of taeil's neck when he presses the lock button on the key.

/

the black plastic bag swings back and forth. once or twice, it brushes against johnny’s thigh. the soda cans are cold and heavy.

johnny remembers but desperately wants to forget: his phone chimes, it’s donghyuck. let’s break up, don’t wanna get hurt. johnny thinks he’s joking because he likes joking, putting salt in johnny’s cola and telling him he’s ugly right before sticking his dick in him. anyways.

but it turns out donghyuck meant what he said, and their two months of tiptoeing around each other, trying to find every single possible excuse to see each other, followed by two weeks of trying to love each other to pieces, are cut short with a clean snip. johnny doesn’t see his baby (no sugar) again. he wishes donghyuck wouldn’t answer his phone and he doesn’t.

it’s been ages since then but johnny swings his plastic bag and thinks about the collection of movie tickets shoved between donghyuck’s phone and its case. he rounds the corner into his street and pushes through his building’s door and clambers up the stairs to his floor.

taeil’s dragged a chair out onto the landing. he's crammed his whole body on the chair, the armrest's under the backs of his knees.

"hi," johnny greets, to which taeil responds with a squint of his eyes and a, "you really do look familiar."

"i do?" johnny asks. he stops swinging his plastic bag, interested in what taeil's got to say.

taeil shrugs and crosses his ankles. "yeah, i don't know. which high school did you go to?"

"west gate."

taeil claps once and waves a finger at johnny. "right, right. didn't you have an american accent back then?"

"how did you know?" johnny asks because yeah, he did have a slow, loopy american accent when he first moved to south korea for high school. it was so hard to say fridge.

"i remember," taeil says, killing a mosquito mid-sting. there's a speck of blood left on his calf, and mosquito mush, "you used to come by my family's restaurant all the time."

it's true but johnny distributed his free time between a bunch of restaurants near school back then so it takes him a while to figure out which one is taeil's family's - "yeah, yeah, the one with that cat sticker on the window?"

taeil smiles. "bingo."

a streak of sunlight's been sneaking up johnny's arm. his knees are an ugly mix of blue and red and yellow, taeil wiggles his toes.

/

doyoung shouldn't have had that last beer, probably. red blotches are high on his cheeks and he bumps into taeil on the way out of johnny's flat and he throws an arm in a wide circle, slurring, "what the fuck is your problem, man?"

"nothing, nothing at all," taeil's saying when johnny stumbles through the door. he had to stay behind to tie his shoelaces.

taeil shoots johnny a look, right past doyoung's right ear. he's got a trash bag in his hand, he's wearing a stretched pair of shorts. his hair's still damp from a shower.

doyoung misses taeil's look even though he's squinting at taeil's face. he's chewing on the inside of his cheek, means he's speculating. turning to look at johnny, pointing a finger at taeil, doyoung eventually says, "the new neighbour?"

"yeah," johnny says with a nod.

"moon taeil," taeil adds but doyoung only rolls his head and mumbles out something that sounds rude.

"bet you have to be all quiet with your girlfriend now that next doors isn't empty anymore," doyoung snorts.

flat again, taeil asks, "you have a girlfriend?"

"not anymore," johnny replies. he can't say more about it because doyoung's already in the staircase - neck intact, for now - and because there hasn't been a girlfriend in a while. only donghyuck. 

doyoung happened to see a text from him once and thought the person named baby on johnny's phone could only be his girlfriend, which is fair. probably would've been a different story if johnny'd given in when donghyuck suggested he set his name as little daddy.

taeil nods. "i see."

/

johnny shouldn't have had all those soju bombs but it wasn't really his choice. his superior just kept pouring them like no tomorrow, even though they were already well into tomorrow.

"the boss's thinking of debuting one of the trainees soon, lee donghyung or something, someone'll need to manage him. what do you think?" the superior boomed, mouth distorted through the soju bottle he was waving around. at that point johnny started pouring his own glasses.

he takes a cab home. the driver doesn't have any music on, not even a late night radio show, and johnny feels like his eardrums could burst. shadows swipe over him like sped-up sundials, time's spinning out of control.

then he's home, the taxi speeds away and he clambers up to his floor. through some miracle he gets the right door on the first try, then gets lightheaded when he bends down to undo his shoes in the dark foyer.

johnny arranges his limbs on his bed, haphazardly. the silhouettes of his furniture in the dark remind him of donghyuck’s quiet breaths and open knees, straining thighs. it was always like a religious experience with him. 

belatedly, johnny realises the arch of a back in his mind has shifted from donghyuck’s to taeil’s. taeil would be quiet, he guesses, just breathing in and out and moving.

if johnny wasn’t so drunk, he would definitely be rock hard. he fiddles with his waistband absently, imagining the look on taeil’s face, and pretends with ease that his ex and neighbour aren’t starting to overlap in his head.

/

taeil's the one who knocks on johnny's door but when johnny opens he just stands there, face tilted upwards. he looks irritated but he might only be calculating. "are you okay?" he asks.

johnny isn't specifically not okay - seeing taeil without thinking of nighttime and condom wrappings is a bit hard though. "yes, just fine," he answers. "and you? is everything alright?"

"oh, nothing to worry about. my mom just sent me all this food and i don't think i'll be able to finish it on my own," taeil explains.

johnny says, "right."

taeil chuckles. "yeah, so i was wondering if you'd like to help me with it.”

johnny goes along, to taeil's flat. he looks at the duvet, it's been folded sloppily and shoved into the corner of the room. the window's open, a fly bumps against the glass in distress.

taeil's low table's crammed full of plates and cups. some are on the floor. his cupboards are probably gaping empty.

taeil waits for johnny to sit down, gets them glasses for beer and turns on the tv. there's afternoon variety shows on, the guest's from johnny's company.

taeil wipes at the gunk in between the buttons on the remote and changes channels by accident. he starts scrolling back, saying, "can i ask you something?"

"go ahead," johnny answers. 

"are you usually this quiet?" taeil asks. a few grains of rice drop on his lap on his spoon's way from the bowl to his mouth. "i remember you being super talkative. i think."

"i guess you could call me talkative still. it's just a bit weird right now," johnny says.

"tough breakup?"

johnny's head floods with text message bubbles. don't wanna get hurt, johnny honey are you listening, i don't wanna get hurt. guess donghyuck only cared about himself in the end.

"you could say so," johnny admits.

taeil hums and drops a piece of pork belly into johnny's bowl. "i really get that. more beer?" there's an empathic twist to his mouth, or at least a good attempt.

taeil goes fetch a couple more cans and johnny suddenly remembers him drinking a beer stolen from the storage in the alley next to his family's restaurant. johnny straightened his school uniform's shirt and taeil lifted a finger to his lips. 

taeil sets the cans down on the table. bending down, he somehow ends up close enough for johnny to smell him. it can't be on purpose, nothing taeil ever does seems to be on purpose, but he does stay.

taeil even tilts his head. he's so close, johnny's thinking of his mom's knife cut noodles, eight thousand won, their first shared secret. the slope of taeil's cheek is sweet.

but taeil doesn't go all the way. johnny can feel him talking, he's so goddamn close, when he sighs, "no, i don't think this is a good idea."

johnny realises his wounds are wide open. it's like donghyuck's pulling on the back of his collar - no one can kiss it better except me, hyung. you know it.

/

donghyuck's face is full of snot and tears. he wipes at it with the sleeve of his - no, johnny's - hoodie and wails, "hyuuuung!"

johnny was laying on the floor with no shirt on when the doorbell rang. even the weather girl was sweating and he hasn't seen taeil in days, he grabbed a blazer from the coathanger right before he twisted the lock open.

"you do know you can't just show up as you please," johnny says, calmer than he imagined he could be half-dressed in front of the kid who dumped him via fucking kakaotalk.

donghyuck's face twists. "i fucked up."

"i can't solve your problems for you, donghyuck," johnny sighs.

donghyuck looks terrible, kind of disgusting. johnny still looks at him and misses him, the feel of his body and his tongue behind his teeth. what's done is done.

taeil walks down the landing, back from work. johnny turns to look at him and donghyuck follows.

"taeil hyung?" donghyuck croaks.

taeil almost drops his keys. he too looks like he's faced with a kid that chewed up his heart and spat the warm pieces out.

///

donghyuck doesn't want to run back to johnny crying but it's all he can do. he's too embarrassed to call his parents, go hey mom how's it going i messed up the future i've been building for myself since i was fifteen. transfer me some money for plane tickets?

all he wants to do is hide under johnny's blazer and pretend nothing exists but skin and satin. he wants to, sure, but he still has some pride left. so he sits alone on the floor of johnny's flat, back straight, holding back tears.

"why did you get kicked out of the company?" johnny asks. 

the tears start flowing out again even though donghyuck just got them to stop two minutes ago. his vision begins to swim and he bawls, "weed."

mark lee didn't get kicked out even though he paid for half of that little zip lock bag but that's whatever. donghyuck was on the second strike anyway.

now mark gets to continue breaking himself in the hopes of maybe one day getting to sing pre-written ear worms. donghyuck gets to go beg on his knees for his ex to help him.

johnny shifts. donghyuck can't make out his expression. "that's fucking stupid, donghyuck."

donghyuck's aware, thank you very much, and really doesn't want to elaborate on why his sock apparently isn't a staff-proof hiding place. "can i bunk here? just a couple of days," he says instead.

"no," johnny says. it's pretty final.

/

donghyuck kind of knew it, yeah, that johnny wouldn't be able to live with himself if he really let donghyuck spend the night in a shabby bathhouse. he's nice like that.

"how did you find me?" donghyuck blurts, mouth full of baked egg. he had only dared hope johnny would call, if even that.

"you put it on your story," johnny says. he clears his throat and looks away. he didn't change out of his regular clothes but he was polite enough to take his shoes off. donghyuck hates him. "come on."

donghyuck changes out of the cotton pajamas and johnny sits on the changing room bench, looking at everything but him. johnny taps his fingers on his knee. the tiles are ugly beige, donghyuck feels skinny and pathetic, there are stupid tan lines on his thighs.

they take the metro home. donghyuck sits next to johnny and twists his fingers. the floor’s beer-stained, the train rattles on. he can tell johnny’s looking right through his reflection on the opposite window. 

donghyuck doesn’t know johnny caught him looking at the name plate on taeil’s door on the way past until he says, “how do you know taeil?” he’s watching donghyuck spread the spare bed sheets next to his. they’re striped and smell like him. donghyuck feels guilty because he knows he’ll sleep like a baby - johnny’s baby, not anymore.

donghyuck looks up. he’s on his knees, johnny looks so huge compared to him it’s not even funny anymore. fine, fine. donghyuck’s an irresponsible little brat who had nothing better to do than tamper with others’ hearts. naughty donghyuck, go play with children your own age.

chest about to burst, donghyuck remembers: his parents’ very early gift to him for his birthday is a driver’s license. he uses it to get out of practice, that sweaty room with so many mirrors it’s really not good for your head. every single minute he can get, he takes.

every week, donghyuck takes the bus down to the school. it’s in a big, white-tiled building from the sixties and moon taeil’s one of the teachers. the only way to get him to say anything more than hi how are you good change gears bye see you next week is to drive like a lunatic, so when the golden star student act doesn’t get donghyuck his number, he resorts to just that.

“were you dropped on your head as a baby?” taeil asks after a whole week of frankly idiotic driving, not like a reproach but probably meant as one, with taeil you rarely know. donghyuck only smiles. 

from that saturday four pm, it doesn’t take more than a few weeks before donghyuck’s bent over the centre console, nose brushing against taeil’s zipper. dirty, bad, selfish donghyuck.

at that point donghyuck’s met johnny. it’s not about hoarding hearts - or maybe it is, a bit - but about how johnny’s tall and taeil has a car and donghyuck wants what he wants. 

donghyuck has all of this ready to bubble out of his mouth but he doesn’t want to get thrown out a second time in one night. no matter how guilty and undeserving he feels, he wants to stick to johnny. “i’ll tell you tomorrow.”

johnny sighs and goes brush his teeth. 

/

while johnny’s at work, donghyuck loiters around the flat. sunlight glosses over the tv screen. he lies on the floor shirtless and hides under johnny’s blazer. it helps.

taeil’s out on the landing when donghyuck finally gathers up enough pieces of himself to go buy himself something to eat. instead of ducking into his flat, this time taeil looks at donghyuck, waiting for him to say something.

“i didn’t know you’d moved,” donghyuck manages. the embarrassing truth is that he went to taeil’s old place first, only to find it occupied by someone he’d never met. the kid hid behind his mom’s skirt from the sad big boy at the door. donghyuck wiped at his cheeks, apologised and headed to johnny’s.

taeil shrugs. "the old one was a shithole, honestly," he says.

donghyuck hums. taeil isn't wrong, the wallpaper caused him a headache every time he was over. but it was dear to donghyuck, one of his two havens away from the company. where taeil would hold him and tell him about stuff that didn't really matter.

taeil shoves his hands in his pockets and says, "does johnny know about us?"

donghyuck takes a long look at taeil, wondering what's going on in his head. "yeah, i told him this morning," he replies.

donghyuck did, and johnny did an impressive job holding the anger in, only the tips of his ears betrayed it. donghyuck wondered if that's what five years will do to him too. 

“so you double timed us,” johnny said, taking cup noodles out of the cupboard. he flicked the water boiler on. “don’t miss breakfast.”

johnny left for work and donghyuck was left sitting cross-legged on the sheets. the boiler clicked off but donghyuck didn’t touch the noodles. he’d already bitten johnny’s hand and, staring at the marks of his own teeth, didn’t know what to do about it.

“i see,” taeil says quietly. “you know, you shouldn’t stay very long.”

/

donghyuck peruses three whole job apps. he doesn't have anything to put on his resume. failed idol trainee isn't usually a sensation among employers.

until it gets him a job in an amusement park. he's supposed to sing in a short performance for the kids, magical friends or some bullshit. he goes through an audition and gets told in confidence by one of the assessors that if he puts something over the bags under his eyes the job's as good as his.

johnny's already home when donghyuck comes back from the audition. "where were you?" he asks.

"job interview whatever thingie," donghyuck says and goes get himself a handful of cookies from the cupboard.

"job?" johnny repeats, finally really looking at donghyuck. instead of that fucking half-cooked glance donghyuck usually grapples at in desperation.

donghyuck twirls his index in a circle like johnny doesn't see he's chewing. then, he says, "yeah. in castlehill park."

johnny almost looks proud. "that's good."

"yeah," donghyuck admits meekly, ducking his head.

the real reason donghyuck's getting a job is that he wants to get a place of his own, where he doesn't have to listen to johnny's breaths at night and sit on the floor with a shirt or hoodie or a pair of boxers of johnny's over his head when he's gone to work. it's a swirl of black in his chest, like a black hole through which you could reach into eternity. it really really hurts, the limitless.

donghyuck wishes he could tell johnny why it all had to be like this but every day it gets harder. it'll be easier to gather some money and get away.

/

donghyuck graduates from both high school and boys his own age on the same day. he ruins lee jeno’s graduation pictures with a fat hickey and thinks, a ninety-five would be nice. jeno tells him he’ll probably feel his tongue in his throat for a week and donghyuck says cool. how old is your brother again?

donghyuck’s nineteen when he meets johnny in a bar. he's snuck out of the dorms, renjun's disappeared somewhere in the crowd. donghyuck bumps into johnny, spills his drink, and for a second there's so much _man_ in front of him he can't see.

johnny says, "sorry, didn’t see you.”

donghyuck tries to kiss him that night, lord knows he does, but johnny only laughs or pretends he can't hear when donghyuck attempts to tell him please please make love to me i'll die. not in those words.

donghyuck's head is spinning in the dark bar, the neon light tubes twisted into cocktail glasses and eyes and angels squirm on the wall. johnny's everything donghyuck dreamed of when he was sixteen: he's tall, he's broad, he wears wool suits.

it turns out johnny works in the same company donghyuck's a trainee in. donghyuck's coming back from his singing class and johnny looks up from his stack of papers. he tells donghyuck hi, donghyuck worries he's going to tell someone he snuck out.

against all odds, johnny keeps it to himself. donghyuck starts sneaking out even without renjun, idling in the hall after singing class, just to see johnny and maybe touch his sleeve.

it all culminates in donghyuck with his face buried in johnny's corduroy jacket. it's amazing, johnny's got a hand in his back pocket and they could both be kicked out of the company but can you really give this all up for man made concepts (time, punition)?

donghyuck thinks if there's someone he's going to be in love with it's this man sandwiched between him and the bar's bathroom wall. a neon bird is suspended on the tiles. hah.

donghyuck's still nineteen when some prick goes tell the staff that he’s breaching the dating ban. he's convinced it's yuta nakamoto because yuta shoots him a satisfied smile when the staff marches him out of the dorms. but donghyuck has no concrete proof, just a rib cageful of wrath.

when asked who are dad2 (johnny) and dad3 (taeil) on his phone and why he's told both of them his ass hurts, aubergine emoji, donghyuck doesn't have anything intelligent to say. the staff woman watches over his shoulder and dictates for him to write, let's break up, don't wanna get hurt. his hands tremble, he's never felt so humiliated.

"give me your phone. then you can go," the woman says. donghyuck does as he's told, on the verge of tears.

/

taeil tears the wrapping off his pack of cigs. he crumples it and shoves it into his pocket, he's just come back from work. the air's hot and humid. donghyuck pulls at a curl of his hair, trying to straighten it.

"can i have one?" donghyuck asks.

taeil glances at him and holds the pack out towards him, but not before he's taken one and flipped it upside down. donghyuck knows not to take that one, taeil believes in these things. like the wish string around his ankle, good fortune stuff.

"so you got kicked out, huh?" taeil says after puff number two. his cheekbones shine with sweat. donghyuck remembers why he couldn't settle for only johnny.

"yeah," donghyuck admits. he hasn't talked about it with taeil, he realises, or about anything else. "i got caught with a bag of weed."

taeil snorts. "seriously? oh, donghyuck."

donghyuck chuckles and looks away. "i know, i know. johnny already did the lecture part, you don't have to."

"thank god for that." taeil flicks his thumb over the end of the filter.

donghyuck decides he owes taeil this, for the hours sacrificed to holding him and for letting donghyuck lie on his bed without talking at all. "i don't know if johnny's told you but i was with him at the same time i was with you. i'm sorry."

taeil stares at his cigarette. then, he props his elbows against the railing and leans his forehead against the heels of his palms. donghyuck's hurt him and can't take it back.

donghyuck doesn't know what to say. maybe it's for the best. he's doing the right thing, he thinks, taking a shaky drag from his cigarette. he can feel his blood flowing, the limits of his body.

"i had my doubts," taeil finally says, "but i didn’t want to believe you would do that."

"i'm sorry," donghyuck offers, for a lack of anything better. he can't give himself the luxury of feeling sorry for himself.

taeil stumps his cigarette out even though it's only halfway through. he stalks into his flat. donghyuck leans against the railing and centers on how it digs into his ribs.

/

donghyuck sneaks into the foyer through the open door. he stops scratching at the rash from the tag of the prince suit he has to wear at work. taeil and johnny's voices get harder the closer he tiptoes to the end of the hall.

"he still did what he did," johnny says, with his voice frozen over. "i just couldn't leave him out on the streets, that's all. we shouldn't give him the idea that he can latch onto us again."

donghyuck has half a mind to turn on his heel and run but you always want to know, even if it hurts and scares you. it’s a human thing.

"there could be reasons, he and i were never really specific about our status and i believe you weren't either," taeil says. donghyuck tenses up, he wasn't expecting taeil to take his side. it's a comfort he craves, regrettably, despite his decision to suffer his punishment without complaint. "at least he took responsibility."

johnny shifts. "but did he ever explain why? that's something he should've done, instead of leaving us without a word."

"but he's just a kid, isn't he?" taeil says.

donghyuck's chest starts to prickle with pure feeling, not a good one. he doesn't want to be called a kid anymore, he doesn't want to be treated like he needs his nose wiped. he knows he made both of them feel like anyone their age could've. more, even. better.

what they had was real, fuck age for crying out loud! he loved them and they loved him, he should've told them many things but didn't know how. maybe that was because he's young, yes, and deep down he wishes that would be enough of a reason to forgive him - it’s not.

donghyuck leaves.

///

johnny’s frowning, like he can’t figure something out. he looks down at taeil and says, “donghyuck hasn’t come home.”

taeil blinks. “what?”

“i haven’t seen him since he left for work yesterday morning,” johnny says.

what comes next is both of them pulling up donghyuck’s contact on their phones and realising the last thing between them is the breakup text. taeil can tell johnny’s looking at him. it’s so weird to think they’re this tightly bound to each other, since before everything - no, not quite everything.

“you should call him,” taeil says, closing his own phone and shoving it into his pocket.

johnny does. it rings, rings, rings. he shakes his head, donghyuck isn’t replying.

this time, donghyuck’s fallen off the radar completely. neither of them says it but johnny and taeil are both lapsing into thoughts of someone having taken and hurt him, him and his tacky prince costume and his slender neck. that, or he just left.

for all taeil’s told himself donghyuck is a thing of the past and distant enough by now to forgive, it all hurts much more than expected. he and johnny part ways after they agree to just wait, what else could they do, and taeil sits in his flat eating a flimsy dinner while his head swims. there’s the look in johnny’s eyes when he talks about donghyuck, donghyuck’s stupid photo on his driving school file, taeil’s own palms.

when taeil falls asleep in front of the tv, he dreams of big hands grabbing donghyuck from a metro carriage on his way home. he doesn’t scream or make a fuss, just looks a bit bored. he turns his head to look at taeil. i feel like goddamn barbie, hyung.

taeil looks up. the hands belong to johnny, when he was fifteen and wore the most sloppily ironed school uniform in the world. he holds donghyuck in his hands like he held the can of hite taeil entrusted him with all those years ago, like a secret. donghyuck sticks his tongue out at both of them.

taeil wakes up and gets up to set his bed.

/

taeil’s so distracted at work he almost passes a kid who would be a national threat if he ever got his hands on a driving license. the stinking driving school car makes him think of donghyuck, who else, except there’s johnny too. it’s frightening and a bit exciting, honestly, to remember donghyuck kissing him for the first time and him pulling away only to give in when donghyuck says please so prettily - and then, get this, taeil conjures johnny up, holding taeil on his lap, reaching around him to play with the hair at the nape of donghyuck’s neck.

taeil’s star student looks at him for a good while at the red light. she flicks on the turn signal and says, “is the air con on too low, teach?”

taeil doesn’t look at her. “the light’s green.”

munching on his lunch box in the staff room in his plain button-up and plain trousers, taeil probably doesn’t look like it but he’s getting more and more certain he’s in love with two people. it’s not the right moment at all but it brings him an odd sense of peace.

taeil gets home earlier than most days because his last student cancels. he waits for the clack of johnny’s door. it never comes, instead there’s a knock on his own.

“can i come in?” johnny asks politely.

“of course,” taeil says.

johnny takes his time undoing his glossy dress shoes. he leaves his satchel against the wall. they stand and watch each other. 

johnny looks very different from ten years ago. he’s grown so nicely. taeil thinks this might be a good moment to kiss him, so he says, “could you bend down a bit?”

(you see, back then taeil wouldn’t have called it love or even like, but he was aware of johnny. he spent his evenings after school sitting behind the till of his family’s restaurant and listening to johnny speak the softest goulash of english and korean to his friends. then, he would escape to the kitchen as soon as johnny looked his way, embarrassed by his shaved head - the aftermath of when his mom saw his spring report card.

he was also painfully aware when he saw johnny stalking past the alley next to the restaurant that one day. he lifted a finger to his lips, don’t tell my mom i stole this beer, and waved johnny over. johnny came, of course.)

johnny kisses taeil back but taeil already knew he would. it occurs to taeil that he might like johnny more than johnny likes him because he had that whole head start when he was sixteen and he spent nights thinking about how johnny pronounced _difficult_ and _chemistry_. johnny must know it, if he remembers at all.

(“you want some?” taeil asked, holding the can out towards johnny.

johnny took a sip and grimaced and let his free hand drop to the edge of the step they were sitting on. a stray cat sat on the sun warmed lid of a nearby dumpster, the sizzle of taeil’s sister frying rice floated out through the backdoor, johnny’s hair was a bit sweaty behind his ears.

taeil put his hand over johnny’s and kept it there - johnny’s hand was hot, a bit clammy - until his courage was spent and he had to get up. johnny looked up at him, the can still between his feet. taeil turned around and fled.)

johnny kneels and then stops, face pressed against taeil’s stomach. taeil, carding his fingers through johnny’s hair, feels his exhales through his shirt. hears the hard gushes of air, in and out. the tv’s still on in the background, birds chirp in the dusk. they aren’t whole, not yet.

“we should go get donghyuck,” taeil whispers. johnny nods.

/

it can’t be hard to pick johnny and taeil out from the edge of a sea of toddlers clapping and mumbling along to _little little prince on his mighty mighty horse,_ but donghyuck doesn’t react. he continues singing and dancing around with two of his colleagues dressed as a horse.

“do you think he’ll talk to us?” johnny asks, squinting against the sunlight. 

taeil lifts a hand to shield his eyes. “can’t say. but i think he does love us both.”

johnny glances at taeil. the show’s ending. the parents clap and the children scuttle away, leaving only johnny and taeil behind in the heavy pool of sunlight.

donghyuck steps down from the stage. he walks over to them and stands there, scratching under the collar of his costume. he looks like an adult, even dressed in a cheap white prince costume, gold buttons trailing down his chest - always has, actually.

“where were you?” johnny asks.

“i ran away,” donghyuck says, steady and measured. he’s fiddling with the hem of his shorts, though. “i didn’t want to be a burden to you or hurt you any more or - you get it. i’m staying with a friend until i get my own place. if that’s what you came to ask about.”

johnny’s silent for a moment, then says, “donghyuck, there’s still a lot of stuff we have to sort through, but would you consider-” he looks away for a moment, maybe embarrassed by the sincerity of it all, “-would you consider coming back? and maybe trying again with all three of us, if you want?”

there’s children’s laughter, theme music from the speakers, their three overlapping shadows. taeil’s scared of donghyuck’s response even though he knows what it’s going to be, simply because in chewing up taeil and johnny’s hearts, donghyuck also nibbled his own to tiny little pieces. now they’re all helplessly mixed together, painful to pick apart.

“yeah,” donghyuck eventually says, already crying. he rubs at his cheeks, like he’s frustrated with himself. “i’m sorry i fucked everything up like this.”

“no, no, we’ll do that later,” johnny murmurs. the horse guys shout from the stage for donghyuck to come. “the others are calling you. we’ll see you at home?”

donghyuck nods. johnny and taeil kiss him on the cheek, one at a time. he lifts a hand to hold taeil’s cheek to his own.

“see you at home,” donghyuck croaks through a smile, before he turns and jogs away.

**Author's Note:**

> it's not that deep <3  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/yeshyuck?s=09)


End file.
